The Age of Innocence eBook

“My dear sir—­” he always addressed
Archer as “sir”—­“I have
sent for you to go into a little matter; a matter
which, for the moment, I prefer not to mention either
to Mr. Skipworth or Mr. Redwood.” The gentlemen
he spoke of were the other senior partners of the
firm; for, as was always the case with legal associations
of old standing in New York, all the partners named
on the office letter-head were long since dead; and
Mr. Letterblair, for example, was, professionally
speaking, his own grandson.

He leaned back in his chair with a furrowed brow.
“For family reasons—­” he continued.

Archer looked up.

“The Mingott family,” said Mr. Letterblair
with an explanatory smile and bow. “Mrs.
Manson Mingott sent for me yesterday. Her grand-daughter
the Countess Olenska wishes to sue her husband for
divorce. Certain papers have been placed in my
hands.” He paused and drummed on his desk.
“In view of your prospective alliance with
the family I should like to consult you—­to
consider the case with you—­before taking
any farther steps.”

Archer felt the blood in his temples. He had
seen the Countess Olenska only once since his visit
to her, and then at the Opera, in the Mingott box.
During this interval she had become a less vivid
and importunate image, receding from his foreground
as May Welland resumed her rightful place in it.
He had not heard her divorce spoken of since Janey’s
first random allusion to it, and had dismissed the
tale as unfounded gossip. Theoretically, the
idea of divorce was almost as distasteful to him as
to his mother; and he was annoyed that Mr. Letterblair
(no doubt prompted by old Catherine Mingott) should
be so evidently planning to draw him into the affair.
After all, there were plenty of Mingott men for such
jobs, and as yet he was not even a Mingott by marriage.

He waited for the senior partner to continue.
Mr. Letterblair unlocked a drawer and drew out a
packet. “If you will run your eye over
these papers—­”

Archer frowned. “I beg your pardon, sir;
but just because of the prospective relationship,
I should prefer your consulting Mr. Skipworth or Mr.
Redwood.”

Mr. Letterblair looked surprised and slightly offended.
It was unusual for a junior to reject such an opening.

He bowed. “I respect your scruple, sir;
but in this case I believe true delicacy requires
you to do as I ask. Indeed, the suggestion is
not mine but Mrs. Manson Mingott’s and her son’s.
I have seen Lovell Mingott; and also Mr. Welland.
They all named you.”

Archer felt his temper rising. He had been somewhat
languidly drifting with events for the last fortnight,
and letting May’s fair looks and radiant nature
obliterate the rather importunate pressure of the
Mingott claims. But this behest of old Mrs. Mingott’s
roused him to a sense of what the clan thought they
had the right to exact from a prospective son-in-law;
and he chafed at the role.